


In Which Dedue Gets Pegged

by pentagonbuddy



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anal Fingering, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Oral Sex, Pegging, Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon, Trans Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, Trans Male Character, size queen dedue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-21 02:43:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21292307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pentagonbuddy/pseuds/pentagonbuddy
Summary: Dimitri, naked save for the leather harness cinched at his waist, sits in his bed hunched over an open wooden box. His hair hangs in front of his face, hiding his expression, but Dedue sees his anxiety in the way he snaps the harness’ straps against hip, hears it in the strain that pulls at his voice.“What do you think?” He asks, tilting the box to show Dedue its blue velvet-lined interior.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Dedue Molinaro
Comments: 15
Kudos: 89





	In Which Dedue Gets Pegged

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [copingcapricorn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/copingcapricorn/profile) for help with edits, a certain stinky meatball for the inspiration (you know who you are), and honestly just the folks at the [3H rarepair discord server](https://discord.gg/SPeGQcm) in general!! Lots of support for trans dimitri <3

Dimitri, naked save for the leather harness cinched at his waist, sits in his bed hunched over an open wooden box. His hair hangs in front of his face, hiding his expression, but Dedue sees his anxiety in the way he snaps the harness’ straps against hip, hears it in the strain that pulls at his voice.

“What do you think?” He asks, tilting the box to show Dedue its blue velvet-lined interior.

Inside are three rods of varying shapes and sizes: the smallest a simple tan wood, the largest an artisanal glass monstrosity with a sapphire set into its flared base.

Dedue’s only response is a groan. Surely Dimitri must be teasing to ask at a time like this? How can he expect a coherent response when Dedue squirms on the furs of their bed with two of his own fingers inside himself?

“I...” Dedue swallows, stares at his faint reflection in the glass rod. “I have no preference.”

Dimitri looks up with a frown. “Is that so?”

“I would prefer if you hurry.”

The furrow in Dimitri’s brow eases as he leans forward to brush his fingers along the inside of Dedue’s wrist; it stills Dedue’s movements and sends an ice-hot shiver along his arm. “Impatient, are we? We have the rest of the night to indulge ourselves.”

True enough. Dimitri had been insistent as of late about carving out some time to spend together, just the two of them with no nobles or knights or duties to attend to, even if only for a few hours. Fhirdiad is the center of a political whirlpool, all of the kingdom's nobles crashing against each other in the tide of this new era— 

Politics. Dedue sucks in a breath as he clenches around his fingers. Now is not the time to dwell on _politics_.

“Please just pick one,” he sighs.

Dimitri rubs slow circles around where Dedue’s fingers thrust, though they freeze at the touch. At first Dedue thinks he’ll join him inside, but all he does is lean over and watch, the pupil of his one blue eye blown wide with lust. For all the worry in his voice, it is reassuring to know he’s not too anxious about...whatever it is he is anxious about.

Dedue tries not to imagine his own answers. The fingers help.

“_Please_, Dimitri, I am busy.”

Dimitri nibbles at his lip. “Very well.”

A quiet whine escapes Dedue when his lover leans back, and whatever expression he wears right now gets Dimitri to blush. A desperate look then. Embarrassing, but worth it to see Dimitri’s smile.

The smile fades into something thin-lipped and serious as Dimitri reaches into the box and pulls out the smallest of the rods. They’ve used it before. Dedue knows the contours of it against his body well, but. _But_.

“...That one?”

“What of it?” Dimitri drums his fingers against the wood. “You said you had no preference.”

“That one is fine.”

“_Fine?_” Genuine irritation creeps into his tone. “Dedue, I do not want you to feel _fine_ about this.”

Dedue lifts his head enough to look inside the box again, drawn to the glass rod’s sparkle. “I...” His throat is bone-dry all of a sudden. “I am...curious. _Ah_, about the glass.”

Now grimacing, Dimitri lifts it from the box and tests its weight in his hands. The grimace turns to pursed lips, then a frown as he looks between the glass rod and Dedue.

“_This_ one?”

Dedue’s head flops back against the pillows. “...What of it?”

“If this is what you want, I am of course happy to oblige, but it’s so…” Despite everything they’ve done together, at times he still speaks with the confidence of a virgin. “_Big_.”

Saying even that much about it curls Dedue’s toes. He slips his fingers out long enough to roll onto his side to watch while Dimitri examines it. “Is that a, a problem?”

“I don’t know why Sylvain included it, honestly.” There’s a tantalizing spiral to the rod as Dimitri rotates it. ”Hideous thing, too.”

“The size.” Dedue’s breath catches, then dissolves into a moan as he adds a third finger. Two won’t be enough for this one, after all. “Is—is the, the size a problem?”

“Well, no, but...” The sapphire base sparkles against Dimitri’s palm. “Don’t you think it will hurt?”

Another groan, much louder this time. “Pick another, then. _Please_.”

“How about the mahogany?”

His face now buried in a pillow, Dedue doesn’t bother to look up before he nods. The thinnest of dowels will do if it gets Dimitri to continue.

There’s a rustle of fabric and Dimitri says nothing more. Curiosity compels Dedue to crack one eye open, his fingers stilling once more as he watches.

The mahogany rod is a compromise. Not as thick as he wants tonight but better than the tan one. Safe. Easy. Shiny as Dimitri strokes it, until they make eye contact and his oil-slick thumb slips against it and— 

The dull snap of wood seems to echo in their bedroom.

They both stare. Dimitri, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, Dedue wondering how to best clean their blankets. A problem for later.

Dimitri opens his mouth, perhaps to apologize, but the genuine horror on his face over something so simple has Dedue shaking with barely-contained laughter. It feels _strange_ around his fingers—he slides them out, gentle, before rolling onto his back and covering his face with his hands.

...There’s no accompanying laughter from Dimitri.

Dedue spreads his fingers, peeks between them, finds Dimitri looking away with his arms crossed over his chest—his blush has spread all the way down to his neck. The snapped rod seems to be back in the box.

“Ah...” Dedue winces at the emptiness down below as he sits up on his elbows. “We have others. And it is no trouble to replace one.”

Dimitri mutters under his breath—something about _clumsy_ and _careless_—with his hair down and scarred eye turned to Dedue as if that hides anything.

Dedue sits up the rest of the way, shifts over to rest his hand on Dimitri’s shoulder. “You are eager. Excited.” He brushes enough hair away from Dimitri’s neck so that he can kiss it. “I find that endearing.”

Some of the tension smooths out under Dedue’s lips. “I do not think you would find it _endearing_ if that were to happen inside you.”

“No,” Dedue concedes, rubbing small circles between Dimitri’s shoulder blades, “but I do not think it would.”

“What makes you so sure?”

His hands drift to Dimitri’s shoulders, run down his side, rest at the harness strapped to his hips. “I trust you.”

Dimitri turns to face him. “That is all well and good, but...”

Though Dedue waits for him to continue, he instead leans over until their shoulders touch. Dedue grows softer by the moment and, once it seems like there really won’t be an explanation, he unties the corset laces that hold Dimitri’s harness together.

“I don’t mean we should stop.”

The pout on Dimitri’s face compels Dedue to kiss it away. “Then tell me what troubles you,” he says even as he slips the harness off Dimitri’s leg. “It may help you relax.”

“Relax? I, ah...” The words trail off into a gasp as Dedue’s lips make their way along his chin, his neck, his chest.

Dimitri reclines against their blankets and Dedue follows him down, face hovering above his abs. “Relax,“ Dedue echoes, kissing further down as he’s welcomed with spread legs. “Allow me to help.”

“_Yes_,” Dimitri’s voice leaps up at the first brush of Dedue’s tongue. “Relax. Right.”

Despite the dip in mood he’s still wet—a comforting sign, truly—and his muscles quiver under Dedue’s wandering fingers. He strokes Dimitri with the flat of his tongue, broad and unfocused in languid movements, until the silence between them is broken by breathy moans.

“What is it that worries you?” Dedue pulls away to ask, though he’s quick to amend it. “In this moment?”

“Things _break_, so, so easily. Maddening.” Dimitri’s hips arch towards his mouth. ”Absolutely maddening.”

“You will not break me,” Dedue says, drawing pleasure out from Dimitri with the tip of his tongue.

“Goddess, _goddess_”—Dimitri’s thighs squeeze around him, conspire to hold his head in place—“I, hold a moment, _please_.”

Easy enough to keep his tongue in his mouth, though Dimitri whines at the loss despite his request. It is a rude impulse, perhaps, but Dedue puffs a hot breath against the other man just to feel him squirm.

“_Dedue_, I—” While he can’t see it well from his current position, he watches Dimitri’s head roll back and forth as he’s denied relief. “I don’t want to _hurt_ you.”

Though he opens his mouth to answer, it’s muffled against skin and curled hair as Dimitri lifts one leg over Dedue’s shoulder and pushes him down. He indulges Dimitri just a little while longer—enough for Dimitri to realize what he’s done and lift his leg, mortified, even though Dedue just grabs it and returns it to his shoulder.

“I am willing to risk pain,” Dedue gasps, pauses to breathe, “because I love you, and I wish to feel you inside of me.” 

He dives back down to hide his own blush between the other man’s legs.

His hands hold Dimitri’s hips as they roll in waves, all of his lost enthusiasm restored, apparently, by the reminder that the love of his life still loves him. Or perhaps it’s the admission of want, so plainly stated—Dedue knows he can be reluctant with such words. They sound selfish and ill-formed in his mouth whenever he speaks them.

But saying them pleases Dimitri, which pleases him in turn, and so he lifts his head once more. “As much as possible. I...want you to...fill me, I want to know how much I can—”

Dimitri’s hand tangles in his hair, shoves him back down, and absolves him of finishing that sentence.

He doesn’t resurface until Dimitri sags into the bed, chest heaving and one arm thrown over his face. Whether in the training grounds or the bedroom, to see Dimitri shining with sweat and a smile and know that he’s responsible for it sparks pride in Dedue’s heart. A smaller spark of shame, too, but that washes away when Dimitri lifts his arm and looks down at him, an ocean of adoration sparkling in his eye. 

They watch each other as Dedue licks one last shudder out of Dimitri, then sits up and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Dimitri’s writhing has swept arcs in contrary directions across the fur blankets, which he sinks into so deeply now that he looks ready to melt into the bed.

“Let me...Let me know,” Dimitri says, “If it hurts too much.”

Caught up in the sight of Dimitri spread wide, it takes a moment for Dedue to remember what he means. “Of course,” he says once it sinks in. “But you look as if you need a moment to recover.”

Dimitri nods, frantic.

One moment turns into several, then minutes as Dedue straddles his blissed-out lover with the glass rod in his hands. They trade kisses and soft touches until Dimitri’s breaths slow and the glass warms in Dedues hands.

“Are you still, ah, prepared?” Dimitri asks.

Dedue climbs off of him only to lie at his side, head propped up on one arm. “Do you wish to find out?”

Dimitri considers this with that silent, dark-eyed brooding he’s prone to. By now Dedue knows it simply means he is thinking, not rejecting.

The answer must be _yes_, since before Dedue knows it he’s flat on his belly with the rod pinned underneath him. He sucks in a deep breath—inhales the scent of sweat and sex—as he looks over his shoulder to see Dimitri slathering one of his hands in oil.

His grip on the rod tightens as Dimitri presses a cautious finger against him. Despite the strength he used to flip Dedue over, his touch is tentative as he slides this first finger in. After Dedue’s earlier work, the pressure is negligible.

Pride—now accompanied by arousal—sparks in him again as Dimitri adds another finger with an appreciative “_oh_.” It stings, yes, but his fingers are thinner and he goes so much slower than Dedue does with himself. While the hesitation is endearing at times, right now it just makes him squirm.

“Another,” Dedue mutters into a pillow.

“I can’t hear you like that.” That’s a lie and they both know it.

He lifts his head from the fabric, forces himself to raise his voice above a whisper. “_Another_.”

Dimitri leans down to kiss his cheek. “Of course.”

At three fingers, Dedue comes to appreciate the pace. He opens his mouth to thank Dimitri, but all that falls out is one moan, then another, and then the dam breaks as Dimitri stretches him better than he’d stretched himself. He meets each thrust of fingers with a jerk of his hips, allowing himself all the volume he needs to express how it feels when Dimitri brushes against that glorious spot inside him.

Were it not for the glass trapped beneath him, its girth and hardness pressing in on his thoughts, this would be enough.

“No more.” This request is muffled into a pillow, too, but Dimitri stops, waits, then eases his fingers out.

A heart-wrenching process at this point. The emptiness it leaves behind spreads until his entire body aches to be filled. He rolls onto his back once more; Dimitri fusses with his harness and though Dedue raises a hand to help tie the laces, he’s swatted away.

“Are you sure you’re ready?” Dimitri asks as he tightens the last knot.

How many times must Dedue say it? The words catch in his throat, so instead he hands over the warmed glass and nods. More fussing—oil on the rod, a pillow under his hips, Dimitri checking and rechecking how things fit together in his harness—more _waiting_.

Dedue lifts his own knees, offers himself up with spread legs.

About ten minutes ago Dimitri’s bashful habit of hiding behind his hair was cute. Now it is torture. The sweetest torture Dedue can imagine, to see this man between his legs with equal parts enthusiasm and embarrassment while the rod at his hips glistens in the candlelight.

Sweet as it is, it’s still torture.

“No other man could”—Dedue chokes on the impropiety of the word on his tongue—“_fuck_ me as you can. I—I wish for nothing more right now. So, _please_.”

“...’Yes’ would have been sufficient.” Cruel of Dimitri to laugh at him in this state, but that he laughs at all makes Dedue’s heart flutter.

The glass is firm against him, firm and thick and _hard_ as it enters him bit by tantalizing bit until Dimitri pauses. There’s a question in his eye; Dedue nods before it reaches his mouth. Despite all the preparation, the rod’s spiral burns as it sinks deeper, and though he has no direct connection Dimitri grimaces all the same.

“Hm. I’m not sure it’s going to—”

“More oil. It will.” Optimistic, perhaps, but _oh_ Dedue wants it to be true.

The blankets will be crusted over with dried oil come tomorrow, along with other unmentionables if they aren’t careful. He’ll clean them himself, for while their relationship is no secret these days, there’s a certain intimacy to witnessing the aftermath of it, and he doesn’t want to share that with—

Dimitri had better fuck these thoughts out of him.

Now that he’s said the word he can’t escape it. When he names what they do in his thoughts—rarely aloud—they _make love_ or _join as one_ or _come to bed_. But only one word comes to mind as Dimitri slides in a second time, slow yet unrelenting, as he studies every flutter of Dedue’s muscles, as greed spreads Dedue wider than either of them imagine— 

“_Fuck_.”

No, it is not _cruel_ for Dimitri to laugh at this crass language, but it seems _unfair_ that his thrusts can be so methodical, free of the maddening desire that compels Dedue to rock into them even as his body protests the treatment.

“Patience,” Dimitri breathes, and his tone reminds Dedue that his lover is not as unaffected as his sluggish movements suggest.

Ankles draped over Dimitri’s shoulders, Dedue only has words to encourage him to thrust deeper. They flow freely now, mixed with sounds of pleasure and the union of glass against skin, until the leather of Dimitri’s harness touches him and he finds no words for this feeling. Not even the crass ones can convey what it’s like to have the full length of the rod inside him.

“It fits.” Pride _swells_ within him.

“So it does,” Dimitri says, just in time to pull out to the tip. “Truly, you are amazing.”

The praise stokes his pride, the heat in his belly, fuels his next request. “Don’t, don’t hold back.” He grabs fistfuls of fur on either side of him. “I—I can take it.”

Despite the request, Dimitri’s thrusts remain slow. Does he want more begging? How shameless must he be? Or is he so worried about harm that he cannot—

The next snap of Dimitri’s hips dispels that thought. _Finally_ he speeds up, and Dedue is torn between touching himself or testing if he can finish just from the bliss of being filled.

Yes, what better way to demonstrate what Dimitri does to him?

“_More_,” Dedue moans, unable to elaborate beyond that.

“I fear you will be unable to walk in the morning,” Dimitri says and the thought makes Dedue’s cock twitch, though the movement is hidden in the way it bounces as the other man jostles his hips. “And I shall have to take care of you.”

Dimitri releases one of Dedue’s legs, uses the free hand to tilt his chin and encourage eye contact.

“Mm, yes, I like the sound of that.” There’s a silk-smooth purr to Dimitri’s voice. “I’ll clean you up, feed you breakfast, rub out any aches—”

Despite all his earlier noise, Dedue holds his breath in silence as he spills onto his own belly. Dimitri’s movements slow, then stop, though he doesn’t pull out yet.

The breath leaves Dedue in one long, trembling gasp. As much as he wants to insist Dimitri need not pamper him, his body has other plans. Once Dimitri leaves him—as slow as he pressed in, and it’s just as frustrating the other direction—Dedue is left aching and empty against their blankets.

There’s no room for breakfast or even a tomorrow in his thoughts. They are empty, much like his body, but this is a sublime peace for someone whose mind is a churning sea of concerns. For now he’s content to float along the surface, hands folded over his chest, with no fear of going under.

Once clarity trickles back in, Dedue flails his arm around in search of a basin he knows is on their bedside table, but Dimitri beats him to it. His lover wipes his abs with a damp cloth, cold enough to make him shiver, refreshing enough to make him sigh.

“_Relax_.” Dimitri smirks as he leans over to wring out the cloth. At some point he’d slipped off his harness, Dedue realizes in his scattered thoughts. “I said I’d take care of you, did I not?”

“In the morning. When I can’t walk.” Dedue tries to sit up on his elbows only to flop back against the bed.

Dimitri smoothes away the hair that sticks to Dedue’s forehead. “At least allow me to clean up.” He has the audacity to _tease_ with his touch as he wipes down Dedue’s—admittedly sore—ass. ”I did as you wished and did not hold back, after all.”

A fair enough exchange. “And I did not break. So.”

“So…?”

_So you needn’t worry so much_, Dedue wants to say, but instead he reaches out and brushes the back of his knuckles across Dimitri’s cheek. “Thank you for indulging me.”

Eye fluttering shut, Dimitri nuzzles into the touch. “Thank _you_ for helping me relax.”

Cold water drips from the cloth onto Dedue’s skin, then down onto the furs. “...But leave the blankets to me. You will make a mess.”

Dimitri’s eye scrunches up along with the rest of his face as he laughs.


End file.
